Prism Cloud

by Jeff Wheeler

  “I imagine any cannon blasts will dislodge boulders, which will come crashing down on them,” Durrant said with a broad smile. “Our hull is not made of wood, sir.”

  “Keep your forces at the ready,” Sera said, nodding at Durrant to open the door. “When I’m ready to commit them, the order will be given.”

  She saw in Lord Welles’s eyes that he wanted her to invite him inside. He had enjoyed the privilege of accessing the command room during his own time as prime minister. To be excluded at such a moment was obviously tormenting him.

  “That is all, Lord Welles,” Sera said dismissively, pausing at the doorway.

  He struggled with his composure a moment, then bowed to her and vacated the hall with an indignant look.

  Sera led the way into the command room, and Durrant followed. After the outer door shut behind them and they passed through the mirror frame into the inner sanctum, the prime minister rubbed his ear and shook his head.

  “You handled him well,” he complimented.

  “I don’t trust Lord Welles. I don’t think I ever will again. We need another commander.”

  “Changing leadership on the brink of war isn’t advisable.”

  “I know,” Sera answered. “I’m just telling you my mind. I’ll be watching the officer corps. You do the same. Any news from Admiral Grant yet?”

  “None, Sera. It appears none of his ships survived. Not a single zephyr has returned.”

  Sera scowled at that. Three admirals had been sent into Kingfountain with at least half of the empire’s force. All three had failed. This was why Lord Fitzroy had chosen to defend instead of attack. At the time, it had been the right strategy, but Sera knew she could not afford to let Montpensier consolidate his power.

  The room was brighter than the dawn sky beyond it. She approached the Command Leering respectfully, then bowed her head as she rested her hand on it. The storm cloud in her imagination surfaced in the pool of water. Durrant pressed his hand opposite hers.

  A surge of power thrummed up her arm and through her entire body, several magnitudes stronger than what she had experienced before. The thrum of the power felt like pinpricks of painful awareness.

  “Do you feel that, Durrant?” she whispered, eyes opening.

  His face was somber. “I do. What’s happening?”

  The power was so much greater than it had been. The entire citadel nearly hummed with it. Why?

  The answer came in a flash. The Leerings in the citadel were responding to the proximity of a greater magic. A magic that went beyond what normally manifested in the physical world, like the literal manifestation of the Deep Fathoms she’d seen while traveling through the mirror gate between Kingfountain and Comoros.

  That insight unlocked something inside her mind. It was as if a massive door had hinged open, spilling light into a darkened cave. She squinted against it, in awe of the power that had been unleashed. Then she felt the powerful awareness of another mind. Not the Knowing. No, it was the presence of Empress Maia herself. Sera felt tears in her eyes. Something was connecting them, weaving their thoughts together as one.

  The information didn’t come as words, but as bursts of ideas.

  Montpensier’s treachery had violated an ancient covenant. Sera could feel the empress’s displeasure for what he had done. It was similar to the displeasure she felt that her own society had altered in such a way, with the powerful preying on the weak. The cholera morbus had been but a warning to change. A punishment sent. A reminder given. Now another punishment was coming. A plague of war.

  In Sera’s mind, she saw clouds gathering in the sky over the mirror gate. She felt Lockhaven tugged toward it, like a whirlpool. The stones seemed to quake under her feet as the speed of the hurtling sky city increased dramatically. Was she summoning this power? No—but yes, in a way she was . . . It was her power, her authority, that had triggered the Leering. Sera thought about tugging her hand away, but she realized she would not be able to. Her hand was fused with the stone, the Mysteries binding the two together.

  In the pool of water, she saw the rearguard of Montpensier’s fleet. The sailors’ mouths parted as they looked up at the sky. There had not been any clouds before, but now the sky was teeming with them, huge billowing monstrous clouds. Cracks of thunder began to ripple, the sound brought to her through the Leerings on the gate. Then a jagged shard of lightning danced across the clouds.

  Sera’s heart swelled with dread as the storm grew bigger and bigger. Rain began to pelt the crews below. Sera hadn’t summoned clouds to enshroud Lockhaven—they were filling the sky above the fleet, drawing all eyes upward. Heavy drops of rain began to plummet, followed by rock-sized pieces of hail. The ocean seethed with the impact, the waves jabbed by the plummeting ice. The storm struck the timbers of the ships, shredded sails, and snapped off the yard arms that held them in place. Some sailors screamed in pain, trying to scamper away and find shelter belowdecks. Others braved the ravaging hail, holding on to ropes or rails to keep upright while the ships rocked beneath them.

  The pressure on Sera’s mind was intense. She felt herself growing dizzier as the scene unfolded. Then she heard a cry, a shout of warning. The sailors were pointing off in the distance. Lockhaven could be seen on the horizon, advancing toward them. Jagged streams of lightning arced down from the massive rocks. The sight was so daunting it even filled Sera with fear. Mass panic broke out below. Shouts were given, screams to flee that she only understood because of the magic throbbing inside her.

  Lockhaven was coming to destroy them.

  Sera felt the power swell as the citadel came ever closer to the mirror gate. It was drawn to it, as surely as an iron bar to a magnet. Something would happen when the citadel arrived. She wasn’t sure what—

  Her thought was answered by the intelligence of Maia, who was still with her, invisible but omnipresent. The mirror gate would shatter, but an opening would form between the worlds. She could see it in her mind—the orange clouds of sunrise on one side, the dark of night on the other. The rift would open in the sky. Large enough even for Lockhaven to pass through. High enough that only a flying craft could reach it. Sera’s fleet could pass through, but Montpensier’s could not.

  “Are . . . you . . . seeing . . . this?” she gasped to Durrant.

  His single-word reply was hoarse. “Yes.”

  The veil between the worlds was breaking.

  Lockhaven shook with power. And in the pool, she watched as it continued its approach, all its Leerings blazing brighter than a noonday sun. As soon as the sky city arrived at the point to which she had commanded it, there was an explosion, a sound of shattering rock. The mirror gate had collapsed. Some of Montpensier’s fleet had been in the midst of escaping, and the vessels were crushed beneath the falling stone. Everything caught beneath it was devastated. Only splinters and corpses would remain.

  Sera could no longer hold her head up. She was slumped against the pedestal, though her hand was still transfixed to the Leering. She wanted to stop the deaths, but she couldn’t, and she wept as she witnessed what was happening in the pool.

  “Can you hear me, Durrant?” Sera whispered.

  She sensed he had collapsed on the floor and was totally unconscious. Would the same happen to her? Her eyes were shut, her own awareness fading. The thought had no sooner passed through her mind than Sera felt a hand graze her hair—a solid, physical hand.

  A voice whispered in her mind.

  This you must see. This you must know.

  Sera felt the pressure of the palm pressing on her head. In her mind a vision opened. She saw an abbey nestled in a mountainside, surrounded by a huge range of mountains that stretched for miles. It was a small abbey, a little speck of bleached stone against the dark gray rocks.

  This is Cruix Abbey. This is where I trapped her.

  The perspective shifted, the abbey growing in size until Sera was somehow just outside it. A zephyr bearing the sigil of Pavenham Sky was concealed in the mountains. Knowledge fi
lled her. Lady Corinne was there at that moment. The perspective shifted again, and suddenly Sera was deep inside a vault hidden within the depths of the mountain beneath the abbey. There was a Leering there, one that Maia had made. It was the tomb and prison of Ereshkigal, a being of pure evil. And there, kneeling and weeping before it, sat Lady Corinne, arm outstretched, palm on the Leering.

  As Sera saw her, Lady Corinne’s head lifted. Their minds were joined for just a moment, and the intensity of the hatred she sensed there shocked Sera to her core.

  I see you¸ Corinne thought, glaring at her savagely.

  She cannot unbind the Leering. Only you have the right. She will come for you.

  With that warning, Sera’s hand was freed from the Command Leering, and the vision collapsed around her, ending with a shriek of frustration from Lady Corinne.

  Sera slumped to the ground, darkness smothering her.

  Those were the last words she remembered.

  She will come for you. She will come for you.

  CHAPTER THIRTY−FOUR

  SURRENDER

  It was a strong smell, a disgusting one, that roused Sera from her state of unconsciousness. As her eyes fluttered open, she realized she was back in her chamber. Becka, Durrant, and the court doctor were gathered at her bedside. The doctor was already capping the vial, removing the foul stench from her nose, and Sera shuddered involuntarily, gagging slightly.

  “Her eyes are opening,” Durrant said eagerly. His eyes were bright and hopeful.

  “Give her a moment, Prime Minister. Your Highness, can you hear me?”

  “What was that noxious odor?” Sera asked, struggling to sit up. Her arms and legs felt completely drained, and a wave of dizziness nearly toppled her back down.

  “Hammoniacus salts, Your Majesty,” said the doctor. “Although the odor is powerful, it is harmless.”

  Sera blinked rapidly. “What day is it?” She looked toward the curtains. They were pulled open, revealing a dark night stippled with stars, along with a strange purple glow. As her vision cleared, she realized what she was looking at—an eye-shaped wreath of clouds emanating sunlight. The rift. It was still open. As she watched, transfixed, a hurricane passed through.

  She bolted upright in excitement.

  “The rift is still open?”

  “It is,” Durrant said, his voice exuberant. “The mirror gate is shut, but this one—the one you opened, Sera—is holding fast. Lockhaven is keeping it open, I think, otherwise it would have shut the moment you passed out.”

  Sera rubbed her eyes, then looked at her arm. She was still wearing the same gown. “But what day is it? How long have I been unaware?”

  “You’ve been unconscious for the better part of a day,” the doctor said. “Some advised it was best to let you rest until you awakened, but the privy council feared you might be incapacitated.”

  “All blather,” Durrant snorted. “What happened to you in that room was beyond anything I’ve experienced. But the privy council is eager to see you on your feet again. Much has happened during the course of the day. Do you think you can stand?”

  “I should like to try,” Sera answered. Becka quickly stripped away the bed covers, and the two men retreated a few steps.

  “Take my arm,” Becka said. Sera did so, wincing as she sat forward with Becka’s help. Her stomach made some noisy gurgles, reminding her she had not eaten all day.

  “Maybe some juice or tonic,” the doctor suggested. “You still look very pale.” He was an older man, his bald head fringed with gray hair. She found herself wishing Adam were there instead. But he had left to see to Anna’s health. She hoped he’d found her well enough to return her to Fog Willows.

  “Some juice, I think,” Sera said. Now that her legs were hanging over the edge of the bed, she felt even more wobbly. She held on to Becka until she was ready and then forced herself to rise. She swayed a bit, but her maid was quick to steady her, and then the room felt solid again.

  The doctor went to a side table, which had been brought over from across the room for his supplies. He secured a cup and brought it to her. Sera looked at the contents first and then took a sip. It was a mild pear juice, thickened with syrup.

  “Should I send word to the privy council that you’re on your way?” Durrant asked.

  She nodded, then took another sip as she watched the prime minister leave the room to relay the information.

  “May I feel your pulse, Your Majesty?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes.” Sera extended her arm, and the doctor squeezed her wrist with his meaty fingers. Her pulse was throbbing in her temples by this point. She was impatient to get back to the chamber. Her final vision, the one of Lady Corinne at Cruix Abbey, was stark and pressing. A whole day had passed. A day!

  “It is strong,” the doctor said, releasing her. “I don’t see any reason why—”

  “Thank you,” Sera said, interrupting him, and stood abruptly. Her legs trembled, but she was not going to pass out again. Becka gave her a worried look, but Sera shook her head, indicating she felt fine.

  Durrant, who had returned to the room and stood by the door, took her by the arm and escorted her out of the room.

  “We’ll walk slowly,” he suggested.

  “Did you see the vision at the end?” she asked him, keeping her voice low. “The one of the abbey?”

  “No, Sera. I’ll admit that I fainted.”

  “I thought as much. Empress Maia shared a vision with me. It was of an abbey on the continent . . . Cruix Abbey. I want you to send some armed men in a zephyr there immediately. I want them to secure the abbey. Lady Corinne may still be there. If so, she is to be arrested at once. Then have a tempest and an escort prepared. I’d like to go there myself in the morning.”

  His eyebrows twisted together with concern. “I don’t understand.”

  “Lady Corinne is at Cruix, or she was when I had that vision. I know what she is after—and she also knows something about me. Durrant, this is of critical importance. That abbey must be secured, and Lady Corinne must be apprehended.”

  “Of course!” he said, bobbing his head in agreement. “I’ll dispatch some men straightaway. What did you see?”

  “I will tell you later. What has happened since I fell unconscious?”

  “Admiral Grant has returned,” said Durrant buoyantly.

  “How did he know where to find us?” Sera said in confusion.

  “He didn’t. He was on the other side of the . . . the portal . . . the sky gate, whatever you want to call it. His foray into Kingfountain was much more successful than that of the other two admirals. He struck initially at Legault and seized the capital. The forces Montpensier left to defend that quarter were inadequate as the duchy of Brythonica is under full revolt. He has spoken to the Duke of Brythonica and one of Prince Trevon’s brothers, both of whom went to Legault to meet with the admiral. He negotiated a sort of temporary alliance with them, for we share a common enemy, but when he came back to the mirror gate to help Admiral Ballinger, he found Ballinger dead and the mirror gate heavily guarded. His forces were in a dire situation, cut off in their ability to retreat. And then . . . in his words . . . the sky opened like a flower at dawn, and he could see Lockhaven poised at the other end—” He positively beamed with delight.

  Sera had struggled not to interrupt him, but she succumbed to temptation at last. “Trevon’s brother? Which one? Is he here?”

  “Give me a chance to explain, Sera. Prince Kasdan.”

  Sera’s eyes widened in shock. “He was the one who went missing after the wedding ceremony.”

  “Yes, the very one,” Durrant said. “He explained to Admiral Grant that he was abducted by men serving the Duke of Brythonica’s daughter, who had come with her for the ceremony. I believe he and the duke’s daughter are betrothed?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Durrant nodded. “Somehow she knew about Montpensier’s plot, or she recognized it in time. After her men abducted him, the two royals con
cealed themselves and didn’t leave with the rest of the family, trusting that Captain Remmer would keep everyone safe. Apparently, that did not happen. The king and queen were executed for crimes against the people.”

  Sera’s stomach lurched, and she looked at Durrant in astonishment. “I cannot believe it!”

  Durrant sighed. “Who can be sure what is false and what is confirmed? One thing we know for certain is that a civil war is underway in Kingfountain. Montpensier has been named emperor, and he is quelling the opposition violently.”

  She dug her fingers into his arm. “What about Prince Trevon?”

  “Prince Kasdan does not know his fate. He fears the entire royal family may have been put to death.”

  She’d feared the same, but it felt worse to hear that Kasdan, Trevon’s own brother, believed it.

  “Is Kasdan here?”

  Durrant shook his head emphatically no. “No, they’re not going to put themselves in our hands, even for a conference. People from our empire have been murdered over there with no thought to age or situation. It’s been a massacre.”

  Sera’s heart throbbed with fury. Why hadn’t Trevon’s parents dealt with Montpensier sooner? But the anger immediately gave way to sadness. Dread. His parents were dead, and he might be too.

  “Where is Admiral Grant now?” Sera asked.

  “He’s waiting for you at the privy council. What say you, Your Highness, do we strike an alliance with Brythonica? Do we dare?”

  She remembered the Leerings she had seen in the sea caves in Ploemeur. There was some hidden history between the worlds, a secret she didn’t understand. But her instincts urged her to trust it.

  “I will dare much,” Sera said, remembering the words from her vision and Durrant’s speech. “I will dare greatly.”

  The words she had heard from Empress Maia rang in her mind. War was coming. A blight of war.

  Admiral Grant was a heavyset man with a blocky face, a thick beard, and a full head of hair. He wore his officer’s jacket open at the collar, several of the buttons undone. His eyebrows were very thick and prominent, his nose was a rugged slope, and two creases joined between his eyes, giving him a narrowing look, as if he distrusted everyone and everything around him. They had never met before, but he was one of the men Lord Welles had suggested as the new prime minister. He was younger than Lord Fitzroy had been and had risen through the ranks during the time before the armistice.